


Kaio Ken

by orphan_account



Category: DBZ - Fandom, Dragonball Z, Gochi - Fandom, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta - Freeform, Chi-Chi/Son Goku - Freeform, F/M, Falling In Love, Fame, Gochi - Freeform, Hip Hop, Introspection, Music, Romance, Saiyans in a boy band, Sexual Tension, Son Goku/Chi-Chi - Freeform, Vegebul, Vegeta/Bulma Briefs - Freeform, band au, fortune, kpop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: [AU] Kaio Ken is the hottest hip hop group in all of Asia, living a luxurious dream filled with screaming fans and sold-out concerts. But for the eldest band members, Goku and Vegeta, fame and fortune begin to offer little fulfillment.During their tour in Japan, a fateful evening introduces them to two stubborn women and the one thing money can't buy: love.





	1. Foreword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU came from an unusual love I have for hip hop, Kpop (Korean pop music), and of course, Dragonball Z. 
> 
> I usually write AUs with some sort of dark atmospheric element, and I was contemplating the often dramatic and pressure-filled lives of musicians, particularly Kpop, I decided to write this AU to explore such topics using our favorite ambitious characters.
> 
> You don't have to know anything about Kpop or hip hop in particular to enjoy this story, but I will make references to both industries from time to time. For those of you unfamiliar with the structure of the Kpop industry, musicians are often trained for years before choosing to be featured in a boy group and must undergo rigorous lessons in vocal quality, dance, and etiquette. Most groups have at least one rapper, sometimes two, that can also sing.
> 
> Anyways, the DBZ guys in this fic are all younger, ranging from 17 to 23 and are not related unless otherwise stated. Bulma and Chi-Chi match their love interests ages, respectively. No power levels or ki here, just romance, angst, fame, and fortune :)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the album cover for Kaio Ken’s debut album. The images of the DBZ boys lookin all swag belong to kurt_art on Instagram; I just edited them together to make the picture. An imaginary “track list” for their first album is below with the actual artists in case you wanted to listen.
> 
>  
> 
> Track List for Kaio Ken
> 
> 1) Zero For Conduct (Block B- BASTARZ)
> 
> 2) The 7th Sense (NCT U)
> 
> 3) Interstellar (Monsta X)
> 
> 4) Silver Spoon (BTS)
> 
> 5) Halo (Block B)
> 
> 6) ONE SHOT (B.A.P)
> 
> 7) Two Moons (EXO-K)
> 
> 8) BTS Cypher 4 (BTS)
> 
> 9) Asian Glow (Wutan, Don Mills)
> 
> 10) Trespass (Monsta X)


	2. Ready Or Not

_Oh ready or not, the show will start._   
_Are you ready or not?_   
_There’s no preview, just go._   
_Show me yourself, ready or not._

* * *

 

  
Vegeta walked along the beach, face upturned towards the sky. Ocean water sprayed from the surf, misting over his caramel skin and gently weighing down his dark, flame-shaped hair. He stopped on the edge of the tide, letting the cold water crest over his bare feet, effectively soaking the bottoms of his dark jeans.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a tangerine glow over the water’s surface. A slight breeze kissed the sand and fluttered his sheer white dress shirt, which was unbuttoned to midchest, exposing the rippling muscles of his fit physique.

With an exaggerated sigh, Vegeta ran both of his hands through his hair, resting them behind his head as he flexed his broad chest. He looked straight into the horizon and bit his dewy bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth before giving a smoldering glare to an imaginary person in the distance.

“Excellent, Vegeta! More just like that!”

 _Click_.

“Yes, pose for me,” the photographer encouraged. “Step into the water slightly. That's it!”

_Click. Click._

Vegeta did as instructed, loosening the tension in his body in order to get the perfect picture. Due to his brash nature, he was considered coarse and rude by others, but he was always a professional even if he had traded a solo rap career to be featured in a joke of a boy band.

Not that he hated his life- he was far more successful as lead rapper in _Kaio Ken_  than he had ever been alone, but there was something so degrading about being treated like a painted doll and not a musical talent.

He lived for his music and he would give anything to become a legend. Unfortunately, such ambition meant sacrificing independence and he often felt like his soul was being sucked out of him by stylists and manner coaches.

“Hands in your pockets,” the photographer suggested loudly and Vegeta complied by shoving his rough hands into the front of his jeans and flexing his chest once more. He then affected a deep scowl and turned his head upwards, looking down at the camera haughtily.

The man crouching in the surf whistled suggestively before showering the rapper with praise over his looks, pausing to check the shots on his camera screen.

“Perfect. You look like a god.”

Vegeta almost broke into a smile upon hearing such flattery, but he kept in character, silently reveling in glory beneath furrowed brows.

He knew he looked good; he had always been attractive in a different way than most men. Where the rest of his bandmates had boyish good looks, his were more chiseled, regal, earning him the nickname “The Prince” from the fans. It also helped that his rap skills were akin to lyrical royalty.

Before signing with his current group, he was talented, but the demographics of the market preferred something different, so he eventually made the decision to join _Kaio Ken_ for more exposure.

It wasn't necessarily a move he was proud of but Vegeta knew when to appreciate his good fortune.

The photographer continued to compliment the rapper on his photogenic nature and as he looked out across the glistening sand, he inhaled deeply.

It was in moments like this that he actually didn't mind being in the group and-

“LOOKIN’ GOOD, GETA!”

A booming voice with a masculine lilt rang out across the beach and Vegeta turned from his intense focus to find the rest of his band waiting by the staff hut in the sand. Flailing his arms around like an idiot and grinning from ear to ear was the second oldest in the group- Kakarot.

Though everyone insisted on calling him by the stage name Goku, Vegeta decided he liked keeping the younger man in check, so he chose to use his birth name. The unusual tactic also helped the rapper keep his distance from Kakarot’s constant attempts at becoming best friends with him.

Not that Vegeta didn't tolerate the man, but he was constantly irked by how easy everything came for the younger. He hardly had to work hard to achieve the level of the others and Vegeta was loathe to admit that he was a tad jealous.

“GETA! GETA!”

And annoyed.

With a huff, Vegeta returned to his pose, only for the photographer to take one more picture before looking at his camera display and waving the rapper away.

“That's all for you,” the camera man declared. “Bring that tall guy over here. His long body will make for some good shots lying down.”

Frustrated, Vegeta stomped away, all his earlier grace fading once more thanks to the idiot cheerfully dancing in the sand several yards away. As the rapper approached the staff hut, Kakarot only seemed to get happier.

“Geta, ya looked so good!” the younger man exclaimed. “How do you pose like that? I never really got taught that as a trainee.”

That was another thing that bothered Vegeta. The rapper had spent eight long years as a trainee at Planet Entertainment before even getting a shot at a solo career.

Kakarot, on the other hand, had spent three years at Kame Entertainment before being offered almost every contract that a boy could ever want. He then quit music, instead preferring to live a peaceful life in the mountains with an old geezer who taught him martial arts.

While the moron was away squandering his gifts, Vegeta had relative success on his own, but thanks to Kakarot’s initial refusal to be placed in a band, Vegeta was offered the contract by Kame. He was picked along with four other trainees to form _Kaio Ken_ , a hip hop group that was hard enough to earn respect, but still flashy enough to have fangirls in almost every country.

Then, just before their debut, Kakarot emerged from the forest and Kame immediately bent over backwards to offer him a contract, no questions asked. No long years of training to regain his status in the industry. No long hours in the studio practicing pitch, tone, or rhythmic flow. Just one look at his pretty face and his resume and that was it.

And in what group did that lumbering buffoon get placed?

Yes, Kakarot was the fifth and final member of _Kaio Ken_ and had been for almost a year. But that didn't make his behavior any less abrasive to the eldest.

“They want you now,” Vegeta mumbled, reaching for a towel to wipe off his feet. He hated the feeling of wet sand squishing between his toes.

Kakarot gave him a lop-sided grin before practically running off to the photoshoot. Once there, the crew directed the tall band member to take off his shirt and lie on his back in the sand, looking up pensively at the sky.

Vegeta had to admit it was a great shot, but part of him wished the man was just as clumsy and ill-mannered on camera as he was in real life.

“Careful, old man,” a voice behind the rapper taunted. “Your jealousy is showing.”

The eldest member turned to find his lavender-haired bandmate glaring at him smugly, leaning back against the wooden wall of the staff hut.

Trunks wasn't the youngest of the group, but he was pretty close. At only nineteen, there was still a lot left for him to learn, but he had worked hard to earn his way into the band, and if there was anyone who could hold a handle to Vegeta’s rap skills, it was the pretty boy.

Vegeta grunted under his breath and rolled up the damp bottoms of his jeans. “I'm not jealous of him,” the rapper growled, already annoyed at where this conversation was going.

Trunks ran a hand through his long, lavender hair and grinned as the straightened locks parted beneath his fingers. Vegeta still wasn't used to the bandmate’s new hairstyle; Trunks had practically sported a bowl cut when their debut album came out, but now the young man decided he liked his hair past his shoulders.

“Hey, Goten.” The younger rapper called over yet another band member- the youngest at seventeen. He had the day off from his prep school and he was taking full advantage of it.

A shaggy haired boy appeared from somewhere behind the hut with a sandwich and a fizzy soda in his hands. The kid was like a bottomless pit, always eating when their manager wasn't paying attention. “Yeah?” Goten inquired, looking around cautiously.

“Is Vegeta jealous of Goku?” Trunks asked the youngest, hooking a thumb in the direction of the photoshoot where Kakarot was owning the camera.

Goten swallowed a bite of his food and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. You're way jealous,” he told Vegeta before grimacing. “I mean, I think there's like a healthy competition between you two…. or something…”

Vegeta scoffed at the reply. “No, healthy competition is what Trunks and I have,” the rapper explained curtly. “There is no comparison between Kakarot and I.”

“You got that right.” Trunks was grinning devilishly, baiting his elder, but Vegeta wasn't in the mood for his usual games.

“Fucking brat,” the rapper swore under his breath before turning around and scanning the beach. “Where is Gohan?” It was almost the man’s turn for pictures.

Goten threw his sandwich wrapper away in a small makeshift trash can and shrugged. “I think he's in the hut reading or something,” the youngest offered, looking Vegeta right in the eye, intent on pleasing his elder.

The rapper had always considered the boy’s constant attention somewhat creepy, but Trunks had assured him it was nothing more than idol worship.

“Go get him,” Vegeta ordered, watching the youngest waddle into the hut to go fetch their resident nerd.

“You know you're still the leader, right?” Trunks stated after a few moments of silence.

Vegeta didn't reply but looked over at the lavender-haired member and gave him a curt nod of understanding. Out of everyone, Trunks was the one the rapper respected the most; perhaps because he saw a lot of himself in the younger man. The kid was constantly bantering with him, but they shared a mutual understanding on the subject of playful shit-talking.

Trunks didn't force any more conversation and the two looked out over the beach and enjoyed the view as Kakarot frolicked and laughed in the surf as instructed by the crew.

“Found him!” Goten returned with Gohan in tow, and the taller of the two squinted as he took off his glasses, preparing himself for the camera.

The final member was such a bookworm, invested in a career outside of music after they all had outgrown their appeal with age. Vegeta didn't really understand the need for scholarly pursuits, but Gohan’s knowledge came in handy quite often. If he had a second favorite in the group, he supposed it would be the tall, passive man.

Gohan was quite agreeable to be around, unless you pissed him off. Then he was probably capable of killing something or destroying property. But for now, he was level-headed, awkward, and currently making his way over to the photoshoot in nothing but faded jean cut-offs and a tight neon, floral print tank. The stylists loved to go crazy with his appearance and the fans seemed to love it. Honestly, anything was better than the horrid green tracksuits he preferred.

With a sigh, Vegeta crashed into a lounge chair, his job of herding the band members now finished. For the next hour, he watched the others get their pictures taken, running lyrics through his head about the kind of life fame had brought them.

Everyone wanted a life like theirs, but they were still getting started, discovering themselves gently amongst constant attention and pressure. The problem wasn't becoming somebody in this industry, it was staying who you were to begin with.

“Vegeta! Group photo!” a staff member yelled out, and the rapper complied with a groan. It was dark now, but they needed some moonlit photos to match the “day and night” theme of the next album.

He made his way toward the shoot, adjusting his shirt as he walked. By the time he made it to the others, Vegeta noticed a growing group of girls several yards away. Security was putting up a makeshift fence to contain the screaming fans who were holding various notebooks and pictures.

“Look!” Kakarot exclaimed, pointing towards the chaos. “We should sign their stuff after we're done.”

“We do not have time,” a high-pitched voice declared from a few feet away. Vegeta winced at the grating sound of their pushy manager, Frieza. “We have a schedule to follow, remember?”

Kakarot’s demeanor inflated and he pouted slightly, but then the camera was on him and the man became a work of art.

The group was maneuvered into several photos, some serious, while others were more “behind the scenes” in nature and would be included in the photo book that came with the album preorder.

As the men posed, the screaming from the fans reached a crescendo and Frieza forced the photoshoot to an abrupt halt, sneering at the crazed fangirls. He ordered everyone off the beach with his strained, pitchy voice.

The band begrudgingly waded out of the surf and made their way back to the hut to change.

“Oh Kami! Goku, I love you!”

Vegeta snapped his head up from his disgruntled walk and turned to find Kakarot over by the fans, shaking their hands and signing their memorabilia. The man wore such a carefree expression as girls reached over the fence to touch his spiky hair or grab at his arm.

The eldest watched on with incredulity, certain that Frieza would run after the wayward member and scold him almost immediately. But no such thing occurred; instead, the petite manager rolled his eyes further up on the beach.

“Go get Goku and bring him to the bus,” Frieza ordered before turning and mumbling to himself about having to run a circus of spoiled “monkeys”.

Of course Kakarot wouldn't get reprimanded for breaking the rules. Everyone liked him and he did whatever the fuck he wanted while Vegeta was constantly reminded to be more “pleasant” and “less aggressive”.

Frustrated, the rapper turned on his heel and stalked over to the madness, ready to be home and in his bed after a good meal.

The girls surrounding Kakarot were completely mesmerized by the tall band member, but as Vegeta arrived, the mood drastically changed.

“Holy shit! It's The Prince!”

Suddenly everyone was rushing to the other end of the fence, most of the girls leaving Kakarot behind, handing back a signed notebook to nothing but air.

The fans were frantic, trying to touch Vegeta, and he was quickly reminded why he didn't mind the band once more.

He was a lone wolf, but who could resist girls who would die just to touch you?

A particularly eager fan shoved an album in his face along with a sharpie and Vegeta accepted the items with a smirk before uncapping the marker with his teeth.

The girl practically fainted at the action and the rapper signed her album with a grin. He paused when he noticed it was his solo album, the outer paper cover worn around the edges from heavy use. Surprised, he numbly handed it back to the fan and went down the line, signing everything that was thrust in his path.

At one point, he looked over to find Kakarot still standing by the fence, though no girls were begging for his attention. Instead, the tall man was smiling sadly, watching Vegeta interact with the fans. His eyes were almost hollow, but still he remained, waiting for the rapper to say his goodbyes and start his journey back to the bus. He fell into line beside Vegeta as they walked.

“I bet it's great to be loved like that,” Kakarot mused, looking around at the beach lit by the faint light of the moon.

Vegeta quirked a brow, genuinely surprised at the other’s melancholy mood. “They were excited to see you too,” the rapper found himself saying, even though he didn't care much for the other or his disposition.

Kakarot shook his head softly. “I know, but I always find myself comparing us,” he explained, voice cracking a little. “What you have…. I want that.”

Stopping in the sand, the rapper cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

The taller member shook his head once more and continued walking, his lumbering form disappearing into the horizon.

Vegeta tried to wrap his mind around the other’s sentiment, but nothing came. “You have that,” he whispered into the breeze, though no one could hear him. “What more could you want?”

No one was around to reply, but Vegeta found himself craving the answer more than he thought possible. He looked up at the few stars he could make out and wondered for the first time if there was something he didn't yet understand about the life he had chosen.


	3. Fanfare

  
_To the right, I can see you._   
_To the left, even your shadow._   
_Give it up, throw your hands up and come out…._

* * *

 

  
“Bulma?”

……

“Bulma!”

…….

“BULMA BRIEFS!” Chi-Chi roared, startling some of the guests in the small cafe. Her outburst did the trick though, shocking her blue-haired friend awake.

“Kami!” Bulma exclaimed, snapping her head up from the sticky table and blinking repeatedly.

With a sigh, Chi-Chi pushed her textbooks out of the way and reached for her friend’s hand. “You fell asleep again,” she teased, though she was annoyed at the occurrence. It was happening more frequently lately and they hardly ever had time to catch up anymore.

Bulma let out an exaggerated yawn and rubbed her eyes. Flakes of mascara landed on her pale cheeks, but she didn't seem to mind ruining her makeup. “Sorry, Chi. They've put me on the night shift for the last week and I can't even function any more.”

“You're the one who wanted to be a nurse,” Chi-Chi declared dryly, the small hints of jealousy she tried hard to suppress breaking free regardless.

Honestly, the woman’s parents owned the largest technology corporation in all of Japan and Bulma thought it would be “fun” to try something different.

Not that nursing wasn't a noble pursuit, but country girls like Chi-Chi dreamed of being able to afford such opportunities and the way her friend haphazardly chose a career path had rubbed her the wrong way- not that she would ever be so impolite as to mention it.

Bulma leaned back in the cafe booth and let out a groan. “I thought there would be lots of hot doctors,” she complained. “You know, like on the tv shows….”

Biting back a retort, Chi-Chi began to put away her own school work while she contemplated how they were going to split the check.

They had both shared a large creme-filled pastry and a pot of coffee, but Chi-Chi didn't have much money on her so…..

“Oh, how are your classes going?” Bulma asked suddenly, taking a small sip from her steaming mug. She smiled tightly at her younger friend, probably having noticed the shift in Chi-Chi’s mood.

“They are going well, I guess,” Chi-Chi replied, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, it's only two of them since that's all I can afford to take right now.”

Bulma set her coffee down and swallowed deeply. She cast her eyes down and shook her head. “Look, I know things are harder for you than me, so-”

“Hey, Bulma!” A voice yelled from the cafe entrance and Chi-Chi’s friend practically jumped out of her seat at the interruption.

The tense mood was shattered, making way for Yamcha, Bulma’s crush-of-the-month to saunter up to their table.

He was a good-looking man, no doubt, but Chi-Chi had always been annoyed at his flirtatious and arrogant nature. The two women had known him for sometime, but recently Bulma had developed an attraction to the man.

“Hey, Yamcha,” Bulma chirped, batting her eyelashes. “I thought you would be at practice today?”

Chi-Chi tried hard not to snort at the situation. Yamcha was a minor league baseball player, but he always acted like he was playing ball with the big boys. When he wasn't involved in the sport, he spent his time at parties or talking to his cat who he was overly attached to.

“Well, it's raining, so….” Yamcha trailed off while rocking back and forth nervously.

Bulma looked out the window at the cloudy sky weeping softly onto the streets below. “Oh yeah, I guess it is,” she observed. “Sorry, I'm just really exhausted because of my shifts at the hospital.”

“Oh, that's right,” Yamcha exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head. “Late nights and all. Listen, I have something to ask you.”

Chi-Chi looked up from her preoccupation with the creme swirling in her coffee and narrowed her eyes at the conversation.

Bulma’s skin flushed and she leaned forward slightly, her cleavage now pressed against the table for all to see. “Yes, Yamcha?”

“So I have these tickets to this concert tomorrow-”

“Ooh? A concert? Is it a big one?”

“Yeah, these dudes haven't visited Japan yet and it's in the Satan City Dome.”

At the declaration, Chi-Chi practically spat out her beverage. She knew exactly which concert the man was referring to. She had only been obsessing over _Kaio Ken_  for the last several months and she followed their every move. Not that anyone knew of her guilty pleasure. No one would expect that financially-strapped, sensible Chi-Chi would be into a gaudy hip hop group.

She thought about bringing it up with Bulma before, seeing as the blue-haired woman appreciated beautiful men, but somehow she was embarrassed to admit such a thing. Everyone saw her as safe, practical, and well… a door mat. She wasn't like Bulma, who was outgoing, ambitious, and confident.

She was just….. Chi-Chi- barely even a part-time college student who went to visit her soft-spoken father occasionally and who thoroughly cleaned her apartment out of compulsion.

A boisterous laugh knocked Chi-Chi out of her self-pity and she tuned back into the conversation if only for the hope that Yamcha would somehow abandon his concert tickets on the table.

“Anyways, I need someone to go with, so….. do you think your nurse friend Mako would want to go?” Yamcha finished, smiling brightly.

All the color from Bulma’s face drained and she awkwardly smiled through grit teeth. “You could try asking _her_ ,” she stated curtly.

Yamcha nodded before grinning even wider. “Cool, I'll try that. I just wasn't sure if she would be into that sort of thing,” he explained. “Thanks, B.”

After waving goodbye, the man ordered a coffee at the counter then left- all with a set of seething blue eyes watching him.

“That asshole,” Bulma spat after the door swung shut. “He knows I like him- I mean it's obvious- but he wants to ask _Mako_? Mako!” The woman grabbed the picked-at pastry from the table and began to shred it into pieces. “Fucking Mako with her blonde hair and long legs…..”

Chi-Chi sighed heavily and checked her phone for the time. “Don't you have to work tomorrow night anyway?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Bulma slammed the pastry remains onto the table. “Ugh, yes! I have to shadow some doctors in the E.R., but I could've pretended to be sick or something!”

“You work at a hospital,” Chi-Chi retorted, annoyed with just how dramatic her friend was.

It was just a guy. Just Yamcha.

What was the big deal?

She had never been interested in a guy so intensely.

_Except for Goku_ , Chi-Chi corrected herself before the self-chastisement set in. Just the thought of the singer set her heart racing even if she knew the crush was irrational.

He was a celebrity! A musician who lives a fabulous life and whom she would never even meet!

“Kami, I hate men,” Bulma declared, digging out her wallet. “Sometimes I wish guys were like patients. You know, stuck in a bed and actually grateful for my attention.”

Chi-Chi had to laugh at that. “That's really morbid, Bulma.”

Slapping her money down on the table, Bulma shook her head. “Yeah, I know,” she conceded with a huff. “But some guys need to be knocked off their high horse, you know?”

Several minutes later, the two women were strolling along the city streets, enjoying the lapse in the rain. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Bulma ran off toward her house to prepare for her shift at work.

Chi-Chi was hesitant to say goodbye, knowing full well that she was going home to her crappy apartment on the east side to sit alone, dreaming of a life far beyond what was possible. She only had the small amount of money her father had acquired when he sold his small business on the mountain, but even those savings were beginning to dwindle. It was her hope to take a full load of classes to get through college quicker, but it looked like she would need to get a job soon.

She sighed again; this was not how she pictured early adulthood at all. Nowadays, the only comfort she found was hanging out with Bulma and listening to music- specifically her favorite: the debut album of _Kaio Ken_.

Chi-Chi hadn't really grown up in adversity or strife, just poor, but somehow she could relate to the lyrics and the desire to work harder to make something of yourself.

It also didn't hurt that Goku had a voice like an angel and was absolutely beautiful….

Just thinking about him made her skin flush, so she quickly knocked away her thoughts and continued through the city until she reached her apartment. Once inside, she threw her keys on the small dining table and checked her phone.

It was a cheap, crappy model since she was nearly broke, but it did have incredibly slow internet that worked if she stood on her futon and held the phone up to the ceiling.

Chi-Chi did just that, searching the web for something to confirm her suspicions about the concert Yamcha was referring to.

After several excruciating moments and her calf muscles protesting her position, the web page finally loaded and she cried out in frustration.

It was official.

_Kaio Ken_  would be in the same city the following night and Chi-Chi wouldn't see so much as a hair on any of their talented heads.

* * *

 

“Move over, I wanna see the skyline!”

Goten practically crawled over Goku’s lap, shoving his face into the window of the airplane. “Oh dude, that's awesome. You should check this out!”

Goku laughed, patting the younger member on the back lightly. “I would if you weren't hogging the window,” he stated with a chuckle. “You haven't traveled much, have you?”

The shaggy-haired boy pulled back from the view and plopped back into his seat. “No, not really,” he admitted with a scowl. He buckled himself back up before his eyes grew wide and he looked around the plane cabin, panicked. “Don't tell Vegeta that I acted like a total kid, ok? He’ll think I'm lame.”

The sentiment struck the older man as odd, but since joining the band, Goku had noticed how Goten always seemed preoccupied with impressing the eldest.

Scratching his head, he tried his best to alleviate the other’s fears. “Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” Goku assured with a smile. “You know, you don't have to try so hard. Geta seems angry all the time but I think he likes all of us a lot. He’s just tough on the outside.”

Goten cocked his head and stared at the ground where his backpack sat snugly between his feet. “You think so? Sometimes I think he gets annoyed with us.”

A laugh erupted from the seat in front of them and a waterfall of lavender hair popped over the chair, attached to an amused face.

Trunks fiddled with the headphone cords around his neck and grinned. “Maybe it's because you guys act like some sort of hyperactive man-children and his _royal_  ass can't handle it,” he sneered.

“Hey, that's kinda mean to say,” Goku replied, brows furrowed.

“Truth hurts,” Trunks stated and one flick of long, silky hair later, the man had sunk back down into his seat.

Goten let out a sigh and shook his head. He looked up at Goku and gave the elder a weak smile. “He doesn't mean it; he just likes to tease. He’s strange like that.”

Goku nodded along, but he wasn't entirely convinced. Trunks had an unusual demeanor about him that he hadn't quite gotten used to yet, even after almost a year of being in the band. The younger man had a wicked attitude and a quick tongue, but deep down, he was a complete softie, especially when it came to Goten.

“Hey, can you switch me seats?” Goku asked the shaggy-haired member.

Goten accepted, climbing next to the window and becoming quickly absorbed in the early morning lights of the large city below them. It wouldn't be long before they landed and Goku wanted to spend several minutes unabashedly watching Vegeta, who was a few rows ahead in the aisle seat.

People may call him strange for being so interested in the rapper, but in all honesty, Goku was just looking for someone to relate to.

Goten was sweet, but he was still a child. Trunks had enough mischief and ego packed into his barely adult body to sort of scare Goku, and Gohan was….. well, way too smart for any of them. He liked the guy, even kind of looked like him a bit, but he had a head full of dreams about colleges and books and Goku was more simplistic.

But Vegeta…..

The rapper was actually relatable, even if Goku had to try really hard to fit the pieces together.

Both of them wanted this life, needed it really, and like Goku, Vegeta didn't have much of a family to go home to. He remembered the rapper mentioning that his dad was pretty much absent, running a company that Vegeta had wanted no part of.

And all Goku had was the knowledge that his parents had left him in the woods when he was an infant. If it wasn't for a kind old man, he never would've never survived.

His past wasn't something he liked to talk about much, so when he decided to quit music to study martial arts in the mountains, no one really understood. Little did they know that Goku’s elderly guardian had just passed away, so he was paying tribute to him by studying under the renowned Master Roshi who agreed to venture into the forest with him.

Goku sighed and played with the hem of his hoodie. It was moments like this that made him miss his guardian…. and reminded him why he needed to become successful. The old man had no family besides Goku to bury him, and the young man had to take out a loan just to give him a proper funeral and pay off the modest debt on his little cabin in the woods.

_Kaio Ken_  hadn't hit it big quite yet; most of their earnings went towards the company as well as breaking even for the tour fees, payroll for the crew, the development of the next album, etc. Frieza said that if they kept up the hard work, they should be making decent money in a year or two.

A deep humming caught Goku’s attention and he looked up to find Vegeta scribbling on a notepad, one headphone in his ear. He stopped his writing to hum a beat before mouthing words over and over.

The rapper was always working, writing lyrics, and practicing. As far as Goku could tell, the man never truly took a break, preferring to create rather than relax. It seemed like such a counterproductive thing to do, but it was certainly admirable.

It was just one of the many reasons Goku wanted them to become closer. Maybe he would feel less lonely if he had another person to climb the ladder of fame with. Someone who saw music as an opportunity for a better way of life and not just an excuse to buy nice things and make girls swoon.

The rest of the flight sped by, and soon the band was making their way through the terminal and towards the baggage claim. Surprisingly, they had a rather small group for this tour stop; the rest of the stage crew would be arriving on different flights, but for now it was just the band, Frieza, their choreographer Krillin, and their fitness and nutrition coach, Piccolo.

While they waited for their bags to be taken off the plane, the boys lazed around on the airport benches while Frieza took several business calls a few feet away. From the sounds of it, something was bothering the manager because his already pitchy voice was getting squeaker the more he yelled at the person on the other line.

After a heated discussion, the man ended the call and briskly sauntered up to the group. “Well, it looks like I will not be present for rehearsal tonight,” Frieza declared angrily, narrowing his already slanted eyes. “Krillin!” he then shouted, and the bald choreographer nearly stumbled to his side.

“Yes, sir?”

“Since I cannot be there tonight, make sure you run them through the full set as much as possible,” Frieza instructed, inspecting his nails. They were abnormally long for a man, but no one dared mention such a thing. “I want the dance for _Trespass_  to be flawless as well as the transitions for _The 7th Sense_.”

“Yes, sir,” Krillin repeated, ghosting his hand over his bare head where sweat was already forming. “Are they performing any of the songs off the upcoming album? Because we haven't gotten those dances down completely yet….”

Frieza rolled his beady eyes in annoyance and let out a huff of air. “I suppose we need to tease the new material, but without time to learn the dance-”

“We can perform _Blue Moon_ ,” Trunks offered, combing through his hair with his fingers. “It's lyrical and is mainly just Vegeta and I.”

Goku looked away from the younger rapper to gauge Vegeta’s reaction to the suggestion, but as expected, the eldest only gave a nod of acceptance.

After all, he wrote the song, so he should feel prepared to perform it.

“Fine,” Frieza conceded before turning to Krillin. “Throw that one in and do something with the remaining members while it is performed.”

The choreographer nodded, pulling out his phone to jot down the note.

“Why won't you be there tonight?” Goku asked, finding it odd that the nosy manager would even let them practice without him. Beside him, Goten added a “Yeah, why?” and all eyes went to the small, bossy man for explanation.

“The crew at the Satan Dome is worried about a security threat for the concert and they want me to review the evidence to determine whether you should perform or not,” Frieza complained, shoving his small, slender hands in the pockets of his over-sized trench coat.

The sound of combat boots hitting the floor was jarring as Vegeta sat up from reclining on a long metal bench.

“Security threat?” the rapper repeated, face stern.

Frieza let out a shrill laugh and waved away everyone’s shock. “Vegeta, it is nothing,” he assured. “Anytime you play a venue this large- in a foreign country no less- there are bound to be a few psychos who claim they will do something. Nothing to be concerned about.”

The entirety of the band looked toward each other, each with various shades of concern blanketing their features, but Goku felt terrified at the prospect. All of them would be completely vulnerable on stage, brightly lit up and the center of attention. What would they do if something happened?

“All of you have nothing to worry about,” Frieza spat, crossing his arms. “You will do the show and everything will be fine. I will ensure that adequate security is around and that every patron is checked thoroughly. Does that make it better?”

Despite his discomfort, Goku found himself looking towards Vegeta for guidance, and he noticed the others had as well. It was as if all of them knew that the eldest wanted this more than any of them, so if he was willing to say no because of a threat, then something was seriously wrong.

Vegeta looked down at his fingerless leather gloves and rubbed his hands together. After a few moments of contemplation, he looked Frieza right in the eye. “Fine. But if I get the sense that anything is wrong, we are walking off that stage and I do not want any bullshit for it.”

The manager pursed his lips before giving a pained smile. “Of course,” he agreed, and that was the end of the conversation.

No one said a word as they collected their bags from the spinning baggage claim before making their way through the winding corridors of the airport. Goku walked behind Trunks who was bobbing his head along with the music blasting through his headphones. Goten was looking around wide-eyed, having always wanted to visit Japan.

Further ahead, Vegeta was whispering heatedly to Frieza who seemed less than thrilled. Piccolo and Gohan were chatting away behind Goku, talking about the science behind proper nutrition and fitness or something.

It wasn't until Goku had reached the sliding glass doors of their exit that he heard it.

The screaming of excited fans, all bunched together, blocking the taxi lanes just outside the door. Airport security was trying to contain the group, but the crowd was pushing their way towards the door with enthusiasm.

They were yelling in Japanese, but luckily, the band members had all been taught several languages while in training. It was a necessity for their industry.

As soon as Vegeta walked through the sliding doors, the frenzy turned into complete chaos. The band’s stage names were being chanted like holy mantras over the sounds of aircraft taking off in the distance.

“PRINCE!”

”GOKU!”

“TRU!”

”TEN!”

”MR. HAN!”

Goku had to laugh at the last one. What started out as a joke in an interview about Gohan acting like an old man or professor quickly caught on among the fans. The man in question rolled his eyes at the name, but he had _never_  told a fan not to call him that.

Once the entire band was outside and security had managed to push the crowd back under threat, Frieza slapped his hand over his face and groaned.

“How the hell did these people find out when we were landing?” he exclaimed to both Piccolo and Krillin, already dialing their ride to the hotel.

Trunks saddled past them, head thrown back confidently. “Probably someone working for the airline,” he explained before throwing his hands in the air and approaching the fans.

The crowd began buzzing, eager girls jumping up and down, barely able to contain their excitement.

Goku watched as the lavender-haired man worked it, posing with various fans for selfies and signing his name on arms and hands. Though he had just done the exact same thing on the beach not even a day before, Goku was now paranoid about their safety and didn't move from his spot.

What if someone was here, waiting to harm them?

“Prince! Please, please marry me!” a girl screamed, earning Vegeta’s attention. He too seemed concerned, so he didn't approach the fan, but he did grip his bags tighter and give her a devilish grin.

The girl screamed so hard that a friend next to her had to calm her down when she nearly passed out.

The road was blocked, so their small taxi bus had to park far away, and Frieza motioned for the band to begin heading that way.

They obeyed, the crowd of fans shifting with them, but just as they turned their backs, a loud voice shook the air.

“Vegeta! You're a fucking sell-out!”

Goku instantly whipped around to find that a large, burly man had pushed his way through the crowd and was staring directly at Vegeta. He had extremely long, spiky black hair and a deep scowl on his face.

A few feet away, Vegeta narrowed his eyes and Goku saw his jaw clench. The rapper didn't reply, but he also didn't move away from the apparent showdown.

Trunks, who was still lingering next to the fans, instantly lost his composure. “What did you just say?” he shot back to the unknown man and the stranger bowed out his chest and pointed a finger at Vegeta.

“I said, he’s a fucking wannabe sell-out!” the man repeated, earning several gasps and acidic glares from the girls around him. “He’d rather prance around in glittery clothes like a little bitch than stay loyal to his roots!”

“Dear Kami, what is happening now?” Frieza shrieked from behind Goku. “I do not care who picks up who, but somebody grab Vegeta and Trunks before they do something I will regret!”

Goku threw his bags down and went for Trunks, knowing full well that Vegeta was too proud to engage in a fist fight in public.

Trunks, on the other hand….

“You want some of us?” Trunks taunted, throwing off his backpack and pulling the headphones out of his ears. He stuck his hand out in front of a bewildered fan. “Hairband, please.”

The girl instantly took her hair down from it's ponytail and handed over her hairband.

Trunks threw his hair up into a secure style and beckoned the stranger forward with two hands. “Try me.”

“No, Trunks!” Goku shouted, coming behind the other and bear-hugging him. “Not here!”

A few feet away, a throat was cleared loudly. Everyone looked to Vegeta, who had placed his bags on the ground and threw his hoodie up over his head. He cracked his knuckles and opened his mouth.

“Because I’m breathing…” he began, rapping the words in his mother language quickly, but the crowd caught on.

“I’M SORRY BAE!” the fans screamed, completing the lyrics to a line from _Cypher 4_  from their album.

“Because I’m too healthy…” Vegeta spat.

“I’m sorry bae!” Trunks sang along with the crowd, still in Goku’s arms.

Goku released his hold on the younger man and watched as the two rappers continued the song while the fans encouraged them.

“The sound that I’m making now…  _bae_ …” Vegeta sneered, stepping forward and bowing up to the man who had insulted him, though he never got close enough to start an altercation.

“To someone else, it’s like a dog’s bark bae.  
Why don’t you change your pattern of talking shit about others bae?  
It’s about to get boring, boring bae…”

Goku watched on in disbelief, head swiveling from the eldest to Trunks who was feeling the beat and engaging the crowd. He couldn't believe how confidently Vegeta was spilling his words, rocking back and forth in his baggy camo pants and laced-up boots with such obvious swagger.

“I’m a monster, my tail is too long bae.  
You’ll shoot me anyway bae.  
If that’s the case, the zoo is more comfortable bae.   
You want it too, material to talk shit about me bae?”

Vegeta rapped effortlessly, laying down flawless words, punctuating the message behind them. He continued like that, the crowd shouting along, Trunks joining in for backup.

“You hate me but… YOU KNOW ME!  
You hate me but…. YOU KNOW ME!”

Then the rapper threw off his hood and went in for the kill.

“I like malicious comments more than no comment,” he taunted, pointing at the man in the crowd who now wore a blank expression. “I don’t know you….  
BUT YOU KNOW MY NAME!”

After dropping the last line, Vegeta stepped back and crossed his arms, looking down his nose at the offending man with a wicked grin.

Everyone lost their minds.

Trunks fell to the ground and pretended to worship Vegeta’s feet. The fans were screaming at a feverish pitch. Goten was jumping up and down. Gohan, Piccolo, and Krillin were clapping, and Frieza wore a minute smirk.

Goku couldn't help but break into a smile too as Vegeta looked over his shoulder at him with a glint in his eye.

The gesture wasn't much, and the situation was ridiculous, but Goku finally felt like he belonged to something bigger than himself, Vegeta’s genuine joy ensuring him that everything would be fine.

As long as they were all together, nothing bad could ever happen.

Right?

 


	4. One Shot

_The parts of you that are hidden by fog,_   
_Burn yourself with passion that’s hotter than the sun._   
_Run and go away, don’t look back._   
_Don’t stop, go away, don’t let yourself go._

* * *

 

**Mako said no :( Wanna come to the concert with me?? I can pick you up at 7 :)**

Bulma sighed and rubbed her temple while glaring at her phone. Her work shift was starting soon and in her haste to make it to the hospital in heavy traffic, she had neglected to check her phone.

Not that Yamcha’s text really mattered; Chi-Chi had been right when she pointed out that the sick excuse rarely worked when your profession was a nurse. Unless some sort of bodily fluid was gushing from an orifice, you pretty much had to show up.

“Is there a problem?”

Bulma looked up from her phone to see Kiko, the young secretary on the first floor lobby, leaning over her desk with a concerned expression. She had always envied the girl because she worked the less busy side of the hospital which had a soothing atmosphere- nothing like the area Bulma had to work that night.

This wing saw routine patients waiting in oak chairs with a large waterfall trickling softly on the wall to the right. The televisions were set to a channel that played home renovation shows and the music was a mix of classical and jazz. But around the corner and down several corridors was where the chaos began- the Emergency Room.

“Uh, no, just guy problems,” Bulma replied, tucking her phone into one of the many pockets on her scrubs. Tonight’s outfit was royal blue, which contrasted nicely with her comfortable white sneakers.

“Well, good luck then.” Kiko gave her a knowing smile, then rolled her chair over to the other side of the large desk to answer the phone.

With another heavy sigh, Bulma made her way to the E.R., mentally preparing herself for the long night ahead. Upon walking into the wing, one of the other nurses rushed by her, holding their freshly-washed hands in the air.

“Briefs, Dr. Fujihara wants you in Triage!”

“Now?” Bulma inquired, surprised that the E.R. was already becoming crowded. It was barely the beginning of the night, but then again, she knew better than to underestimate the flow of patients.

“Car accident,” the nurse explained before rushing off, leaving Bulma to report to the front desk and see where she was most needed. It seemed that she would help with the low priority cases- the food poisonings, kidney stones, vomiting, etc., while the others attended to the accident victims.

As she was grabbing patient charts, her phone buzzed in her pocket and she almost decided against checking it, knowing exactly who was messaging her. But like a moth to a flame, she was drawn to her phone, pulling it out and unlocking it.

**Wish you were here. It's awesome! Maybe next time??? :)**

Another message from Yamcha, complete with a selfie of him in the crowd at the concert, phone high in the air as he grinned below it. It was dark and neon lights illuminated only parts of his face, but she could make out the excited faces surrounding him, all except for one.

Behind Yamcha was a long-haired man in the corner who was scowling.

Squinting at the picture, Bulma became uneasy. She didn't know why, but the man’s expression bothered her. She looked up from her phone, glancing around the hospital wing as if she was missing something. All that met her eyes were the usual sights, and all she heard were the sounds of pens clicking, machinery humming, and people talking.

Nothing unusual, but something was wrong…. somewhere.

Shaking away the strange feeling, Bulma decided against replying to the text. It would do her no good to message back when she felt like a rebound to the man. Sure, Yamcha was extremely attractive with his free lifestyle, long hair, and rugged good looks, but Bulma Briefs was no one’s second choice.

She had a life to live and shit to do.

After turning off her phone, Bulma decided to get to work. She collected the charts she needed and consulted with the nurse she was taking over for. She made notes as the woman talked and then reviewed them carefully. Hopefully she could help some patients feel better and her shift would pass by quickly without event.

A scream broke her focus and she looked up to see several doctors rushing a patient on a gurney toward the operating room.

She sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

No shift was uneventful; why would this one be any different?

* * *

 

Gohan handed over the piece of paper with hesitation. Vegeta’s eyes scanned it over, taking the lull in conversation to focus intently on the markings and symbols.

“These are all the exits in the building?” the rapper asked, pointing toward the red dots on the map. He adjusted his leather vest and glanced up to the taller band member.

“Yep. Though the back exits will probably be easier to get to from the stage….. you know, if we need to,” Gohan explained before running his hands through his hair. A few feet away, a stylist frowned at him and he quickly fixed his hair, putting the gelled spikes back into place. This seemed to please the woman and she went back to work arranging her styling tools on the vanity desk in front of her.

It was nearly time for the concert to start and backstage was full of crew members, stylists, and stage workers, but Vegeta had pulled Gohan aside after their brief rehearsal. The elder wanted to know how quickly they could exit the stage if something were to happen during the concert. He knew Gohan had found it strange that the rapper had asked him for a directory of the building, but the scholarly band member was the only one he could trust to be practical about the situation.

“Do you really think something will happen?” Gohan asked, leaning on a tall speaker. One of the stage crew cleared their throat loudly and the singer ceased touching the equipment with a flurry of apologies.

Vegeta didn't reply to his question with words, instead he took another look at the map and fixed an intense glare on Gohan. It was a look that the rapper had perfected for years; a look that said “Don't ask, just do what I say”. It usually worked to his favor, intimidating the other in the conversation into silence and action, but Gohan was peculiar.

The younger man was very much like the newest band member in that respect. Kakarot didn't know when to quit and Gohan possessed the same curiosity, but also a quick intellect and wit to go with it. If Vegeta was being honest, the kid was too smart for his own good.

“You knew that guy at the airport, huh?” Gohan whispered, turning his body away from the others who were still rehearsing further away.

Goten and Trunks were going over some of the dances while Kakarot was getting his eyeliner smudged by one of the stylists. Frieza had yet to be seen, but Krillin was acting in his place, making sure they all stayed in one place and didn't wander off.

At least, he had been until a tall female with a curvy body and shoulder-length blonde hair caught his eye. Now the bald choreographer was chatting her up in the corner while she set up some stage lights with an annoyed look on her face.

Once again, Vegeta didn't reply to the question directly, instead choosing to adjust the mic pack attached to the back of his pants. He followed the cord concealed beneath his shirt up to the nude-colored, slim mic taped to his jaw and resting near his lips.

He didn't feel like acknowledging that he did in fact know the asshole that had challenged him at the airport, but only because such a revelation would tear open old wounds and threaten the life he had taken great pains to create.

The past was dead to him. The rapper had buried his skeletons long ago and wrestled with his demons. Once, he had lived a double life, his days filled with vocal coaching and music lessons, only to find himself wandering the dark alleys at night, knuckles wrapped tightly with bloody gauze.

Vegeta had almost forgotten those days…. until Raditz had shown up in the crowd like a ghost creeping into his dream.

Gohan opened his mouth again to speak and the rapper brushed past him, but the younger man couldn't let it go.

“If you know something is wrong, then you need to tell Frieza or somebody,” he declared, grabbing Vegeta by the bicep. The rapper gave him a deadly glare, not used to another invading his personal space. Gohan stared back, his intelligent eyes unwavering. “You don't have to worry alone. Vegeta, we’re a family and you don't keep secrets from your brothers.”

Vegeta wanted to shove the kid off, his old instinct to fight bubbling up, but he suppressed the rage. He couldn't let one appearance from his past destroy everything he had built in the present, including the man he had become. He took a deep breath and gently removed Gohan’s hand from his arm.

“I just want to be certain that we are safe,” the rapper explained. “Frieza is too busy counting his money and pandering for endorsements and I do not want to take any chances.”

Gohan seemed to accept the explanation, though his eyes still lingered on the elder in suspicion. “Oppa,” he whispered, earning Vegeta’s full attention. “We will always be here for you. Just let me know if there's anything we can do.”

Shocked by the term of endearment and the kind sentiment from the usually reserved man, the rapper nodded numbly before walking away, uncertain how to process the moment. He looked back at Gohan, who now watched him with a soft expression.

Recently, all the band members were beginning to grovel for Vegeta’s attention and it was quickly becoming less about following the leader and more about forming a bond with the elder. He wasn't sure he was comfortable with such a notion, but there he was, thinking of the best way to save them all from his past.

That is, if his past was still haunting him. He desperately hoped he was wrong.

“Think you can keep up with me, old man?”

The familiar taunt stopped Vegeta in his tracks and he turned to find lavender hair invading his sight.

Trunks was dressing in the outfit for their first song of the concert with a smug grin.

“Watch yourself, little shit,” the elder rapper spat back, already getting riled up by the younger’s cocky stance. It always happened that the two pissed each other off before a show; they always performed the best when high off arrogance.

Soon they were trading insults mixed with free-style rhymes while the others gathered around them, choosing sides and laughing hysterically at Trunks’ crude innuendos and Vegeta’s unyielding dry humor.

Finally, Frieza showed up, barking orders at every person he saw and the band knew it was time to get the show started. The stylists checked them over one last time, misting their skin with water bottles and adjusting their outfits.

The men followed one of the crew members underneath the stage where they set up their formation and waited for the platform to rise up, revealing them to awaiting fans. Goten gave everyone a thumbs up while Kakarot belted out a few more practice notes while their mics were still turned off.

The opening to _Trespass_  blared throughout the stadium and screaming erupted from the crowd. The platform ascended, their mics went live, and they began to sing.

_”Can you really call this a crime?”_

They hit the stage with energy, dancing hard and pulling at their baggy clothes with swagger. In front, Trunks began to rap his chorus to the crowd amidst flashing lights and smoke.

_“Knock knock, I’m going in now_   
_It’s clear you’re gonna be shocked_   
_I’m quickly going in, I’m quickly going in, trespassing_   
_Can you really say you hate this?”_

The men progressed through the song, adrenaline fueling every hip thrust, vocal reach, and change in stage position. When they danced, they become one. When they sang, they were a single entity working together to provide joy and entertainment.

Vegeta rarely smiled, and when he did, it was always during a performance.

He dropped his own rap, challenging Trunks a few feet away before winking at the crowd. The younger responded by singing with flourish, and Vegeta ended the song, belting out the last line arrogantly.

_”So tell me now, who’s hot and who’s not?”_

After the final beat, the band ripped off their army costumes and bowed to the crowd.

Before Vegeta knew it, the next song was queued up, a deep thrumming bass echoing through the stadium. Girls screamed louder as the men danced sensually while singing along to the energetic rhythm.

Sweat coated the rapper’s skin and he could feel blood pounding in his ears as he gave it his all, delighting the fans and feeling every beat of the music flow through his veins. The lights were blinding and hot, but nothing could ever replace the feeling of being connected to something that was as alive as music.

He felt free, happy, and in control of his life when he sang. When he could close his eyes and hear thousands singing along with lyrics that he wrote.

It was enough to ease Vegeta’s mind and clear his paranoia and he let go, completely existing in that moment. He smiled, the end of the song fueling him to continue.

The bass cut off and Gohan introduced the band to the crowd who responded with enthusiastic cheers and whistles. Goten followed after that, bowing at the waist before announcing that the next song would be a preview of their new album.

The audience went wild, erupting into chaos while stage hands brought out two sleek stools for Vegeta and Trunks to sit on while they sang the ballad. The others took strategic places around the stage, interacting with the crowd while the music began to flow from overhead.

“This song is called _Blue Moon_ ,” Vegeta declared, sitting down next to the younger rapper. “Enjoy.”

The melody began and Trunks began to sing, gently swaying side to side, his long hair waving behind him.

Girls were screaming their names, begging for attention and the two spared quick smiles to those in the front rows before the chorus began.

The other members chimed in from their various places, leading the song softly along and laying the groundwork for Vegeta.

His part approached and the rapper lowered his voice for the song he wrote about lost love.

_”I’m fine thank you, and you?_   
_Just asking, this might be the last conversation of you._   
_Long time movie’s overdue have to say bye sign que._   
_I let out a sigh, I think I should tell you._   
_Have to say the truth baby._   
_My lover….”_

Vegeta rapped the words deeply, using a softer tone to meld into the meaning flawlessly. His eyes swept the crowd, connecting with the fans that had gone silent, their wide eyes taking in the raw performance.

The rapper had never been in love before, but he could imagine that the emotion was much like the deep connection one had with a childhood friend. The comfort, the safety you found in the other’s presence. The heartache that came when you had to tear it apart.

For a brief moment, he thought about the man he had left behind all those years ago, but he quickly pushed past the grief and continued on.

_”You’re gonna be the past perfect._   
_I’m sick and tired of this bullshit._   
_We were so passionately in love,_   
_But the fire of our love is extinguished by your tears._   
_Let’s get blind this sec._   
_I’m sorry babe….. sorry.”_

He ended his rap, dramatically looking away at the last line, hearing the others sing the chorus, each on different ends of the stage.

Goten was flirting with the girls in his front row, while Gohan was laying down his words and touching the hands of the fans gathered beneath him.

Vegeta looked past Trunks to find Kakarot singing along with a grin, the crowd near him jumping to get his attention. Just as the rapper opened his mouth to join in on the next part, he noticed the audience near Kakarot’s feet part, producing a tall man with long black hair.

A familiar cruel face from the day before.

Kakarot seemed stunned to see the man again, stuttering his lines before picking them back up. He backed away from the stage, but Vegeta was already moving off his stool, Trunks giving him a strange look as he rushed by.

He couldn't explain what drew him to the scene.

Perhaps it was the wicked grin on Raditz’s face or Kakarot’s blank stare as he watched the strange man reach into his oversized jacket.

The others were still singing across the stage, oblivious to the disruption despite Vegeta missing his lines. Their mics had died on them several times before during shows and they were trained to take over each other's parts in case of technical difficulty.

Just as the rapper reached Kakarot, pulling on his arm, he heard Gohan take over for him. The sound of his voice was drowned out momentarily by a loud bang and though Vegeta felt like he was firmly planted to the stage, the world tilted dangerously.

Kakarot’s dark eyes were impossibly wide and a silent scream was perched on his lips.

Across the stage, Gohan kept singing, completely unaware, the sounds of chaos covered up by loud bass.

_”Wherever you go, you can never leave._   
_Why wouldn’t I know that it was harder than anything else?_   
_I hate myself tonight for not even saying this…”_

The fans finally registered what had just occurred. They screamed from a place of pure terror as more shots rang out.

_”Tonight, your face is like a blue moon.”_

* * *

 

Chi-Chi had been sitting in the dark for the last thirty minutes, waiting for her phone to finally get some service so she could check the fan page for _Kaio Ken_. She had told herself that she wouldn't look online for the myriad of fan videos and pictures from the concert, but she eventually broke down. She needed to see what she was missing despite the crippling disappointment she would face.

She finally got several web pages to load and she had pouted upon seeing dozens of selfies from girls waiting for the show to start, all posing with the same pursed lips and faces overdone with makeup.

The captions on the photos were even worse.

**In line wit my gurlz at Kaio Ken in Satan City :))) Hope to go home wit Vegeta tonight ;)**

**Just caught a glimpse of Goku in ripped jeans and tight shirt!!!! Totally pregnant now :0**

Chi-Chi sighed and threw her phone on the couch next to her. The internet had stopped working, but she had seen enough anyway. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the concert, saying it was one of the best they had ever been to and it wasn't even over yet.

Before her phone crapped out, she had figured out the set list so far- the band had started out with _Trespass_ , dancing out of the stage in all camo uniforms before stripping down to their own unique outfits for _Zero For Conduct_.

And apparently, Goku was wearing ripped jeans and a shirt that barely contained his muscles.

Chi-Chi frowned at the thought of all those girls ogling him like he was a piece of meat- not that she didn't appreciate his good looks- but he was more than just a body. He was a talent, yet Kame Entertainment always seemed to treat him like a pretty boy and sometimes she could tell that he wanted more.

It was a crazy to think that she could tell what a celebrity was thinking, but it was the way he carried himself in interviews and the behind the scenes documentaries of their photoshoots or music videos. Somehow, she just knew he was more than a handsome face to decorate or a figure to dress up to sell an image.

A loud noise from the television snapped Chi-Chi out of her musings and she turned her weary attention to the newscaster on the screen. Somehow she had missed the news station breaking into the rerun of the sitcom she had been watching.

The words “Breaking News” flashed a few times across the bottom of the screen before the anchor began to hurriedly read off the teleprompter. The image changed to a sky view of the Satan Dome and Chi-Chi leaned toward the TV set, eyes wide.

Just as she honed in on what the anchor was saying, the shrill ringing of her phone nearly gave her a heart attack. She reached over on the couch and answered it, eyes glued to the television, watching as streams of people flowed from the exits of the Satan Dome.

“Chi, I need you to do me a huge favor,” Bulma practically shouted from the other end of the line.

Chi-Chi nodded along numbly, finally able to read the news tag line on the bottom of the screen.

**Shots Fired At Concert, Satan Dome Evacuated**

“Sure,” she replied slowly, now tuning into Bulma’s ragged breathing and the sounds of people shouting in the background.

“Go to Capsule Corp. and bring me a bag full of overnight stuff- clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, all that shit,” Bulma instructed. “Something's happened and I won't be leaving here anytime soon.”

“Can't your mom do-”

Bulma interrupted her friend’s question. “You know what I keep in my underwear drawers! I can't just have my mother digging through all that….”

“Gotcha. What happened?” Chi-Chi was now kneeling in front of the television, eyes darting frantically, trying to assess the scene.

On the other end of the line, Bulma sighed in frustration. “I don't have time for questions, Chi!” she snapped before taking a deep breath. “Look, I'm sorry but we are getting the overflow patients from Satan City General and you don't have much time before getting into the hospital will become impossible. Just go and come to the first floor entrance by the primary care unit. Ask for Kiko.”

“Ok, ok, I'm going,” Chi-Chi huffed, stumbling over herself to throw on her shoes by the front door. She immediately hung up before rushing out of the door and dialing her father who was her only source of transportation. Luckily, he was in town for his weekly shopping trip.

She told him to pick her up one block over, figuring it was best to get a head start walking than waiting for him outside by the streetlight. He soon pulled up beside her, a concerned expression coloring his usually placid features.

“Chi-Chi, dear, what's the matter?”

“Bulma is having an emergency and she needs some things,” Chi-Chi explained, throwing herself into his old car. “Just drive.”

She directed him to Capsule Corp., her heart racing in her chest despite her father’s simple conversation and ease of driving. She wanted to remain calm, but it was hard to when her friend's voice kept playing through her head along with the image of all those people running from the Satan Dome.

Something terrible had happened at the concert and she couldn't shake the feeling that not only had innocent bystanders been hurt, but that one of the band or possibly all of them had been as well.

The news hadn't said as much, but she was strangely resolute about this fact and it bothered her. Naturally, any person would be concerned about such a tragedy, but she felt connected to the band and to Goku.

It was stupid, illogical, and silly, but she couldn't help it.

The entire trip to Capsule Corp. became a blur, and Chi-Chi rushed through her greetings of Dr. and Mrs. Briefs before running to Bulma’s bedroom and throwing her requests into a large designer bag and rushing back to her father’s awaiting car.

As they made their way to the hospital, traffic slowly became more congested and Chi-Chi’s phone was blowing up with messages from Bulma, asking how close she was and telling her to come to the E.R through a different entrance and to make sure to use the nurse’s name to avoid being kicked out.

The entire situation was getting more intense, and all the unknowns were beginning to unsettle her. She wanted to ask her father to turn on the radio but the man was happily humming a tune, his arm hanging lazily out of the opened window.

It was a song they both knew very well- the lullaby Chi-Chi’s mother had always sung to her when she was a baby. Although she was too young to remember her mother’s passing, her father kept the tune alive, singing whenever he felt stressed or just wanted some peace.

Now it was an oddly comforting serenade before the chaos she would undoubtedly find at the hospital.

Minutes later, it became apparent that traffic was gridlocked, but they were only a few blocks from the West City Health Complex, so Chi-Chi hopped out of the car, waving to her father before running towards the hospital.

She sprinted past the crowds gathered on the streets, who were murmuring while staring at their phones or watching the tvs in store windows. She reached the hospital parking lot and followed Bulma’s instructions, pushing past the people at the east end entrance only to find it was blocked by several police cars.

Frustrated, she had to run around to the main entrance, which actually lead to the third floor thanks to the “modern” sloped design of the building. Once inside, she rushed to the lobby desk and mentioned the nurse’s name to a frazzled receptionist.

The woman seemed to realize why she was there and offered to take the bag to Bulma, but Chi-Chi needed to see her friend in person. She was met with resistance, but the blaring sirens of ambulances pulling up outside distracted the receptionist and she waved Chi-Chi away.

After looking at the directory on the wall, Chi-Chi boarded an elevator and threw her body against one of the metal walls, catching her breath as adrenaline surged through her veins. She squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in air while clutching Bulma’s bag to her chest. The elevator came to a stop earlier than her destination and she pushed off the wall to press the door close button, unwilling to deal with another’s presence just yet.

But the doors were already opening, revealing a man with a strong, angled face and panicked expression. His denim pants were ripped fashionably and the tight white shirt stretched across his broad frame was splattered with blood. His dark eyes were imploring, and a large hand darted out to catch the elevator door.

“Please help me,” the stranger pleaded and if Chi-Chi hadn't of already recognized him, his voice would've given him away.

_Goku._

She was breathless, standing there with an overstuffed bag in her hands and completely in awe of the moment.

He stepped into the elevator, letting the door close behind him with a mechanical hiss. “Please, miss! My friend was brought here and I don't know where they took him! I rode with him in the ambulance but they rushed him inside so fast…. I just….” the singer began to break down, repeatedly running his hands through his hair and staring at the ground.

It was then that Chi-Chi could see the small specks of blood sprayed across his face, crimson against his creamy skin. The sight was disturbing enough to knock her out of her idol worship and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“What happened…. at the concert?” she asked, her voice reflecting off the walls in the enclosed space.

The elevator dinged, indicating they had reached their destination, and Goku looked up at her with a shocked expression that quickly faded into one of deep anguish. He stood tall, tears threatening to further stain his angelic face.

“Vegeta got shot.”

And just like that, the cacophony of shouts and screams emanating from the E.R. erupted past the opening doorway and filled the elevator. With a heavy heart, Chi-Chi watched the man of her dreams turn and run desperately into the chaos.

Bulma’s bag felt like lead in her hands, but she moved forward anyway, stepping out into a world that she no longer understood.


	5. Shift

_I saw you from the beginning._   
_The night I was revolving around you;_   
_All that time, through a long wandering._   
_I can’t catch you, you’re like air._

* * *

 

Bulma watched water swirling in the stainless steel sink. She scrubbed her hands clean, making sure to get the pads of her fingers and underneath her nails. Once finished, she used a cloth to pat her hands dry and turned to watch the other nurses and doctors in the room finish their duties.

The operating room was small, and the sound of Dr. Fujihara pulling off his bloody gloves and smacking them into the biohazard bin echoed off the walls. He came to the sink and sighed heavily as he turned on the water.

“He’s one lucky son of a bitch,” the man muttered under his breath while he doused his hands. He looked exhausted- they all were- but his face held more of the long hours than the nurses’ careful expressions. He finished scrubbing his hands and turned to address the room. “Thank you all for helping.”

“Don't mention it, Doctor,” Mako declared, washing her own hands across the room. Lying on a silver tray next to her was the bullet they had pulled out of the patient’s shoulder. Bulma watched her coworker glance curiously at the object before addressing their elder once more. “What should we do about the patient?”

“Get him a room in ICU and inform those waiting for him that he is stabilized,” Fujihara instructed. “I'll update them with the full details later.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Mako bowed slightly before leaving the room silently along with the other help.

“Just how lucky is he?” Bulma asked, still lingering by the sink. She took a moment to look at the patient who was still lying on the table a few feet away. Beside him, machines monitored his vital signs as his body began to adjust post-surgery.

Fujihara let out a huff of air and pushed away from the sink to stand beside the unconscious man. “Extremely lucky,” he clarified, rubbing his balding head. “If he had been shot even a fraction of an inch to the left, then he would've bled out. But I have to commend the staff at the Satan Dome. They applied enough pressure to curb the blood loss.”

Smoothing out her scrubs with her freshly-washed hands, Bulma joined the man by the patient’s bed. “It was remarkable,” she began, taking in a deep breath. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins from the emergency surgery which was her very first experience. “Saving a life like that… I've never seen anything like it.”

Beside her, Fujihara let out a small chuckle and turned to her with a weak smile. “You should consider more schooling, Briefs,” he suggested softly. “You would make a fine doctor. But for every moment that you feel on top of the world for saving someone, there’s a moment where you…. don't.”

Silence filled the room then and Bulma had to look away. Only a few hours ago, she had been pulled aside and asked to assist with surgery, and she recalled the horrifying scene as the patient was thrown onto the table, nearly dead as a torrent of crimson gushed from his shoulder.

There had been so much blood caking his bronzed skin and his eyes were fluttering ceaselessly. The medical staff had to begin operating right away, and several minutes in, the man had begun to flatline, his body seizing uncontrollably.

She was so certain that they were going to lose him. It had been one of the most harrowing moments of her life and no amount of schooling could prepare her for watching the life slip from someone’s body….. and slip back a few seconds later.

Just as Bulma opened her mouth to reply, Fujihara left, leaving her to wait for the staff from ICU to pick up the patient. She looked at the man in the bed, still encrusted with his own blood while his dark hair was matted against his head. His strong brow was furrowed and thick lashes twitched as his body was forced to suck in breaths by the respirator.

Even though he looked like something from a horror movie, he was beautiful because he was a survivor.

Minutes later, Bulma was relieved of her duty for a short break and she wandered into the floor’s lobby to get a cup of coffee to calm her nerves. Her eyes widened upon seeing a lump of purple and black curled up in a chair near the tv on the wall.

“Chi-Chi? What are you still doing here?”

The younger woman popped her head up before sitting to stretch out her thin limbs. Her usually bound hair was free of its constraints and cascaded down her back like a raven-colored waterfall. She cracked her neck with a yawn. “Well, my dad had to go back to the mountain, and he’s my ride so I thought I would wait for you.”

Bulma gaped at her friend, incredulous. “Chi, you gave me my bag over six hours ago!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms. “You could've said something and I would've found you a ride-”

“Relax,” Chi-Chi cut off with an annoyed huff. “Is it so bad for me to stay?” The younger woman looked towards the tv, which was showing the news coverage of the shooting. “They said that fifteen people have already died from their injuries.”

Nodding slowly, Bulma walked over and plopped down in a chair by her friend. “Yeah, several of the other doctors here have lost their patients,” she lamented, fiddling with her scrub top. “They were just too close to the shooter.”

Chi-Chi looked away from the news with a pained expression before settling her dark eyes on Bulma. Whenever the younger woman was tired, she looked much older and reminded Bulma of worried mother.

“They said that you were called into surgery for a victim,” Chi-Chi stated. “What about your patient?”

Bulma pursed her lips and let out a sigh. “It was close and we managed to stabilize him, but Fujihara said he is in rough shape.”

A curious expression crossed her friend’s face and Bulma wondered about the strange behavior. Chi-Chi had never been so concerned about others before- not that the woman was heartless- but she had always been somewhat of a busybody and never let herself get bogged down with drama.

“Bulma, do you know what happened to the guy from the band who was shot? His name is Vegeta.”

Bulma recoiled at the question, unsure how her friend even knew about her patient. When he was rushed in, they were told to keep his condition from the public because he was a celebrity. His fame was the defining reason he wasn't transported to Satan City General instead. Only after his status was confirmed was the staff to update the men that had came with him.

“You know I can't legally tell you anything, Chi.”

Her friend looked away for a few heartbeats before boring her gaze into Bulma. “I just need-”

A hand was thrust into the air to stop the younger woman’s explanation. “You're a fan of the band, aren't you?” Bulma inquired softly. “That's why you clammed up when Yamcha talked about the concert at the cafe.”

Sputtering an explanation, Chi-Chi tried to refute, but Bulma cut her off once more. “You don't have to hide the things you like from me. We’re best friends, Chi. I'm not gonna judge you. You work so hard to have everything together that I think you forget how to live.”

“I don't do that,” Chi-Chi protested, folding her arms. “I just…. feel like I can't enjoy small things like that while I have so much other stuff to be worried about. You know- school, money, my dad…”

Bulma gently grabbed her friend by the shoulder. “Chi, stop being stubborn and enjoy your life no matter what your worries are. After what happened today, I think you should consider letting go a little. You're kind of a tight-ass.”

Furrowing her brow, Chi-Chi huffed. “What do you mean by that? I literally can't afford to let go, unlike some people,” she retorted. “I'm not made of money, princess.”

“Someone’s bitchy,” Bulma quipped, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out like a petulant child. “What you need is to meet a guy and get laid-”

“Excuse me, ladies?” A loud voice boomed from the lobby doorway and both women dropped away from the conversation to peek at the visitor.

It was a man, about their age, wearing a hospital shirt and smiling sheepishly. His ripped jeans were still decorated in blood splatter and Bulma briefly recalled him begging to see her patient as they rushed to the operating room. It was one of the other band members, no doubt- a very lucky band member.

“Can I help you? Bulma asked, sizing the man up. He was certainly handsome despite the exhaustion evident in his chiseled face and large dark eyes. She glanced over to Chi-Chi and smiled when she saw the blush on her friend’s cheeks.

“Uh, I know they said the doctor would tell us more about Vegeta later, but I was wondering if you could tell us just a little more information. I saw you go back with him,” the man pleaded.

Behind her, Bulma heard Chi-Chi gasp.

It seemed that the secret was out.

“I'm sorry, but the doctor really wants to wait until later,” Bulma replied, rising from her seat. The man deflated at her words and she felt the overwhelming need to comfort him. He had most likely witnessed his friend get shot at close range and that had to be traumatic. “But he's doing ok for now, and that's all that matters, right?”

The man nodded weakly at her words before moving to exit, but he lingered by the door, glancing past Bulma to her friend.

Chi-Chi was staring back, eyes wide, and Bulma dusted herself off with a smirk playing on her lips. She had just joked about her friend finding a man and now one had practically been delivered to her, gift-wrapped in a famous package.

“Well, I should get going,” Bulma declared loudly, walking toward the door.

Not that her declaration mattered; no one acknowledged her exit anyway. Both her friend and the stranger were too caught up in staring at each other to care.

Bulma brushed past the musician on her way out and muttered to herself as she walked down the hall.

“Chi, this is a gift from Kami. Please don't be stubborn and mess this up.”

* * *

 

Chi-Chi watched her blue-haired her friend walk toward the door, but it was hard to focus on anything but Goku standing in the doorway.

She swallowed hard, trying to still her beating heart, but his gaze was imploring and she squirmed under his attention.

 _Get yourself together_ , she scolded internally. _He’s a normal person just like everyone else._

By the door, Goku shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “Hey, you're the girl from the elevator, right?”

His question was unexpected; did he really not remember her and or was he just trying to make conversation? Chi-Chi shifted nervously but caught him looking at her with a soft expression.

Immediately, she responded out of pure anxiety. “I'm not a girl,” she blurted, sitting up straight and tossing her hair. “I’m a woman.” Her cheeks flushed and she could've smacked herself for the awkward comment.

If the strange statement bothered Goku, he didn't show it, instead chuckling and moving into the room further. He hesitated to sit near her and took a seat a couple of chairs away. “Sorry if I scared you on the elevator,” he apologized, looking down at his large hands. “I was really scared myself and I just panicked.”

He glanced back up and Chi-Chi quickly averted her eyes to the tv. “No, it's ok,” she responded, trying to think of something to continue the conversation.

What else could she say without seeming nosy or upsetting him?

She moved in her chair once more, trying to find something to do with her hands.

“Are you a fan of my band?” Goku asked, and she could feel his eyes on the back of her head but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

Chi-Chi shrugged, trying to seem as casual as possible. “I've heard of you guys,” she explained, still staring at the tv. If only this man knew about the obsession she had with him and his music. He would probably run for the mountains in terror.

“Cool….” Goku trailed off, clearing his throat.

The tension in the room was becoming awkward and palpable and Chi-Chi wondered why he was talking to her.

Was he bored? Did he need someone to talk to? Should she stop trying to play it cool and listen to whatever he had to say?

Thoughts swirled in her mind and she turned toward her visitor before her mind caught up to her actions.

“Are you-”

“What are-”

They both spoke at the same time and surprise registered on their faces before they fell silent.

Chi-Chi played with her long hair, running her fingers through the black nervously. She glanced up briefly to see Goku watching her intently, but unlike her, he didn't seem embarrassed.

“What are you doing here? Do you have someone who is staying here too?”

His tone was soft and careful and she had never heard his voice so low before. Of all the interviews she had watched, he had never seemed so unguarded, and now he was directing that attention to her.

It was unbelievable.

“Uh, no. The nurse that just left is my best friend and she asked me to bring her some things,” Chi-Chi clarified.

Goku nodded slowly at her explanation before letting out a small laugh. The good-natured response seemed to spread through his whole face and even his eyes smiled. “Oh yeah. That big bag you had,” he observed. He then cocked his head with furrowed brows. “Why are you still here then?”

“Oh, I don't…” Chi-Chi trailed off, hesitant to inform her celebrity dream guy that she was too broke to afford a car and that she relied on her father to take her places. She was an adult now, but sometimes she still felt like a child, flagging behind Bulma who seemed to have it all, including confidence. “My car is being fixed right now, so I'm waiting for Bulma to get done with her shift,” she lied smoothly.

Goku was silent for a moment, pursing his lips in concentration. “Do you live far from here? Like can you walk there?” he finally asked with wide, inquisitive eyes.

“I live on the other side of the city, but I guess I could walk if I had to,” Chi-Chi explained, feeling her heart beat impossibly fast.

Why was he asking? Was it just out of curiosity or was he thinking of-

Her frantic thoughts were interrupted by something he said, but it had escaped her attention.

“Huh?” she asked less than gracefully and her face lit on fire with shame.

Goku chuckled and leaned toward her in his chair. “I said I could walk with you if you wanted,” he repeated.

Without thinking, Chi-Chi leapt to her feet in shock, knocking over the small table that had been next to her chair. A lamp crashed to the ground, shattering the decorative ceramic base and the lightbulb inside. She gaped at the scene and tried to hide her shaking hands by crossing them against her chest.

Her mind screamed for her to run away and avoid Bulma’s workplace for the rest of her life, but her embarrassment kept her frozen in place.

When she finally turned around, she jumped again at Goku’s close proximity. He was directly behind her, peering over her shoulder at the mess on the floor.

“We should get someone to clean that up before I take you home,” he declared lightly.

Chi-Chi stumbled backward before forcing herself to stand straight. “I can take myself home,” she huffed, sticking her nose in the air.

She had no idea what possessed her to become so indignant suddenly, but inside, she was panicking and she couldn't stop staring at the handsome face in front of her.

Goku’s expression dropped and he hunched his shoulders. “Oh, that's fine,” he replied, voice wavering. He looked toward the tv and blinked at the news report he saw there. “Just be careful,” he murmured, staring at the screen.

He looked so forlorn in that moment, lost in the memory of what had happened to his friend and Chi-Chi let her hands fall away from her chest. She gathered her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled a ribbon out of her pocket. She tied her locks back and dusted off her outfit.

“You can walk me to the bus station,” she offered, taking a deep breath. She would just have to borrow some money for every stop from Bulma first, but surely the woman wouldn't mind at a time like this. “It's just a few blocks from here. That way you don't have to be away from the hospital too long.”

Goku finally tore his attention away from the tv to look at her. Slowly her words sank in and a grin spread across his chiseled face.

“Ok,” he replied breathlessly and the sound was unlike anything Chi-Chi had ever heard.

It made her heart nearly stop and sweat break out on her hairline.

“Uh, I have to go tell Bulma not to wait up for me, so I'll be right back,” she declared before rushing toward the door. She scolded herself for seeming so eager and slowed her walk as she came to the doorway.

Before she left, she risked a glance back at Goku, who was staring back at her with soft eyes, his hands in his pockets.

“Don't worry. I promise I'll be here when you get back.”

She didn't know it was possible, but his words made her feel important, not because she was the richest, smartest, or most beautiful- but just for the simple fact that she was Chi-Chi.

* * *

 

Goku wearily walked the halls of the hospital, making his way back to the ICU after dropping off the cute girl at the bus station. He stopped in the busy corridor and slapped his forehead.

“I didn't ask her name,” he whispered to himself in disbelief.

The entire walk to the station had been filled with trivial questions about her interests and life and yet he forgot to ask about her name. How stupid could he be?

He now knew that she was a college student, had a father who lived in the mountains, and didn't like to walk on the side of the street closest to the cars, but Goku had no idea who she was.

Admittedly, he was a little nervous being around her, but he was usually pretty good with making conversation. He had to be, otherwise interviews and autograph events could get nerve-wracking, yet somehow his manners had escaped him when taking the girl home.

Her voice immediately interrupted his thoughts and he smiled.

_“I'm not a girl,” she blurted, sitting up straight. “I’m a woman.”_

She was definitely unlike any _woman_ he had ever met before. Instead of throwing herself at him, she almost seemed irritated by his presence, yet she agreed to let him walk with her.

Goku frowned.

Maybe she was just being nice? She seemed pretty proper with her long purple dress and neat hair. She wore very little makeup, but he liked that. He thought she had very nice skin….. and eyes…… and lips…..

“Goku!”

Goten was running down the hall, his shaggy hair bobbing up and down. “We've been waiting for you! The doctor is going to tell us about Vegeta.”

Instantly, Goku felt horrible. How could he be thinking about a pretty girl when his friend was fighting for his life? How selfish of him! What would Vegeta think if he knew?

He would probably scoff at the younger man and mumble those curse words he liked so much under his breath.

Hanging his head, Goku followed Goten to a private room where the other band members were assembled, as well as Frieza, Piccolo, and Krillin. Everyone looked concerned and varying degrees of sorrow colored their faces. Well, almost everyone; Frieza looked frustrated, but that was expected out of their stuffy manager.

Still, the scene was unusual. Even Piccolo, who was normally very stoic, seemed visibly disturbed and the weight of the recent events seemed to hit all of them at once. The atmosphere in the room became tense and Goku took a place leaning on the wall with a heavy heart.

The doctor wore a blank expression and his hands were folded in front of his white coat. Beside him was the blue-haired nurse from earlier, the one who was friends with Goku’s mysterious elevator girl. She looked extremely tired but she gave him a small smile and he returned it before a throat was cleared, catching all of their attention.

“Hello, my name is Doctor Fujihara and this is Nurse Briefs. She is shadowing me and is assigned to the patient, Vegeta, for the foreseeable future,” he explained, unclamping his hands and putting them in the large pockets of his lab coat. “The patient is stabilized and we were able to get the bullet out of his shoulder successfully, but he has some muscle damage that will need to be addressed, but he is expected to survive.”

An tangible sense of relief flowed throughout the room and everyone let out a collective breath. Even Frieza relinquished a small huff.

“So everything will be ok?” Goten inquired from beside Trunks, who looked broken despite his stern face.

The doctor nodded briefly before taking a deep breath. “He will most likely need extensive physical therapy to regain the use of his shoulder, but I'm confident that he can resume a normal life,” he declared with a small smile. “He is very lucky to be alive.”

“Gee, Doc, that's great news,” Krillin exclaimed, rubbing the back of his bald head, looking around the room. “Right guys?”

Everyone murmured their agreement, and the room suddenly seemed larger and less claustrophobic. Goku let go of the breath he had been holding and watched as his friends began to quietly whisper to each other, smiles forming on their young faces.

“I'm afraid that isn't all of the news,” Doctor Fujihara declared suddenly, shattering the happy moment. His tone instantly grabbed everyone’s attention and the room fell silent once more.

Goku tried to read the doctor’s face, but the man had hardened his expression, but beside him, the nurse was staring at the ground with a pained look.

“When Vegeta fell off the stage after being shot,” Fujihara began with a low tone, “he was trampled on by everyone trying to run away in the chaos. He has some bruising and inflammation covering his body, but I'm mostly concerned about his throat.”

“His throat?” Gohan repeated, a strange expression flashing across his face. Since the concert was over and they weren't in the public eye, the man was wearing his glasses and he adjusted them on his nose out of anxiety.

The doctor nodded and the nurse beside him held up a poster of the human head, which showed a close-up of the insides of the mouth and throat.

“In front of the esophagus, or what we commonly call the throat, is something called the larynx,” Doctor Fujihara explained pointing to the appropriate images on the poster. “It's also referred to as the ’voice box’ and is where the vocal cords are housed. The cords are what make it possible for us to talk.”

“And sing,” Gohan reminded in a whisper. His face went pale, but he didn't say another word.

“Yes,” the doctor agreed before referring back to the poster. “It seems that the patient suffered a blow to his larynx when his throat was stomped on, and it nearly crushed his esophagus as well. Now, we were too concerned with saving his life that I couldn't properly look at the damage during surgery, but now that he has stabilized, I performed a minor examination. We won't know more until he awakes, but…”

“But?” Trunks spoke up, his tone laced with malice. The young rapper was now furious and Gohan tried to calm him down, but to no avail. “But what, _Doctor_? What are you trying to say?”

Doctor Fujihara seemed off-put by the reaction, but the nurse clarified for him.

She put down the poster on the table behind her and stepped forward. “What he is trying to say is that his vocal cords could be horribly damaged, meaning that the patient may never be able to speak…. or sing… again,” she explained, casting a glance at Goku before turning her attention to the others in the room.

Goku felt as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. The room began to spin and he braced himself against the wall in an effort to calm himself.

“Like I said, we won't know until he awakes and we can better assess the damage, but I thought it was worth mentioning, given his profession,” the doctor stated.

Goku felt tears pool in the corner of his eyes. His chest constricted painfully and he struggled against the onslaught of emotion flowing through his body.

Why Vegeta?

It had been Goku who was staring down the barrel of the gun and now Vegeta had lost the only thing in his life that he truly loved. The older man worked endlessly for his passion- music- and now that had been ripped away from him in a single moment and there Goku was, strolling to the bus stop with pretty girls like nothing was wrong.

“It should've been me,”Goku mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. The appendages were instantly slapped away and he looked up, startled to find a face so close to him.

Trunks was glaring back at him, his lavender hair unruly and face raw. “Don't you dare say that,” he spat. “Then it would just be you in that bed and nothing would be different… or it could've been even worse. You're not doing Vegeta any favors by whining.”

The younger rapper was now shaking as he shouted, tears streaming down his face. Goku opened his mouth to reply, but Trunks quickly brushed past him and out the door, leaving the others to wrestle with their anguish.

“Oppa, wait!” Goten exclaimed before running after his friend.

Goku watched the youngest leave, wiping his face as torrents of saltwater began to fall.

“I'm sorry. You may visit the patient later,” Doctor Fujihara stated before exiting, and the nurse followed him but not before stopping to put a reassuring hand on Goku’s shoulder before she left.

“He’s right,” Gohan suddenly declared and Goku snapped his head up to look at the younger man with a curious expression. “It doesn't help anything to wonder what could've been different. It is what it is and we can't go back.”

Beside him, Krillin nodded before excusing himself with a crack in his voice. Piccolo followed and Goku swore that tears sparkled in his eyes as well.

All that remained was the two band members and Frieza, who looked more annoyed than anything. The manager pulled out his cellphone and mumbled under his breath as he walked out of the door.

Goku pushed off the wall and tried to leave as well, but Gohan stopped him by grabbing his bicep.

“It should've been me but Vegeta got in the way,” Goku shouted, feeling every bit of composure leave his body. “You don't understand! It's different for me than it is for Vegeta…”

Gohan shook his head and grasped his elder by both of his shoulders and leaned in close. “No, Goku. I don't think that bullet was intended for you at all,” he whispered. “I think Vegeta hasn't been honest with us. I think that….. this isn't the first time he has been threatened, but it was the first time that whoever is after him was given the opportunity to be successful.”

Goku furrowed his eyebrows and pushed away from his friend. “What?” he gasped. “What do you mean?”

Moving to close the door, Gohan took a deep breath before turning to his friend and bandmate.

“I think someone close to us wants Vegeta dead.”

 


End file.
